


partum a novus stella

by davesstrand



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davesstrand/pseuds/davesstrand
Summary: His thoughts are a jumble of emotions that stirred his imagination when he wrote poetry. His mind - it's raging, and the world before his eyes - it's vast and contradictory deceptive.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/Nick Rhodes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	partum a novus stella

**Author's Note:**

> "partum a novus stella" means "birth of a new star".
> 
> i shall warn you right away: english is not my native language, so there is a high probability that there may be some semantic and grammatical errors.

Lightning flashed before his eyes. The sea beneath him stirred and rumbled. Under the weight of his direct and clear gaze, it seemed faint and elusive, like a dream. The thick clouds were just feathery shadows in the azure sky. From somewhere far away came distant sounds – faint, barely discernible, but similar to voices.

It was a long time since Simon had heard the call of his Muse. It's been a long time since he wrote anything. The sea took full possession of his will and mind.

He doesn't know what his blessed Muse might look like. He doesn't know how tall she is, what color her eyes and hair are. He doesn't know what her voice sounds like – her being is completely unknown and abstract to him.

But she had always seemed so defiant and charming. Just like these raging waves – inspiration catches up with him in much the same way that the ocean waves before it calms down.

The resulting illumination, like a momentary clouding of the mind, takes him far away from all the usual sensations and leads him to where reality begins to refract, to go into a slow infinity.

This is where his lyrics come from – they sound wistful, they cry for days gone by. His own youthful dreams are shattered.

His thoughts are a jumble of emotions that stirred his imagination when he wrote poetry. His mind - it's raging, and the world before his eyes - it's vast and contradictory deceptive.

"So, is it gone?"

And then one of those distant voices leads him away from the painful inner search and associations at the same moment. He was taken out of a place where nothing has a place and where it is impossible to say "I exist".

"Yes, it's gone."

And Muse – you can't keep up with her. She's like a storm – like it comes out of nowhere and disappears somewhere else. She can't move in space by herself. You can only wait for her to come.

"Then that's the way it should be. Don't waste your precious patience on empty expectations."

A figure that looked different from Simon materialized from behind, gripping his shoulders with two cool hands.

Simon may not see it, but the figure is smiling - and is smiling brighter than the stars. But this figure is made of flesh. This figure is able to say "I exist".

"So, what's her name? Do I know her?"

But the Muse. The Muse has no name. The Muse comes and goes. The Muse left Simon alone.

The coastal breeze rubs Simon's skin and touches his hair, bringing him to his senses in an instant. A majestic purple moon rises over the sea.

"No, guess you don't."

..but they are similar. They have something in common.

Maybe she had blond hair, green eyes, and the same pale skin. Perhaps the Muse is now literally in front of his nose – so deceptively vague, so far away. And so unattainable – the desire to respond to touch by touch is suppressed so painfully, so unbearably bitterly, that even these attempts to give an account of what is happening immediately evaporate.

And for some reason, just now the figure decided to pull away.

He, _Nick_ , just wanted to pull away from him. So suddenly. This feeling is comparable only to a sharp slap in the face – only without physical injuries.

"Nick?"

And so Nick looks at him. The wind ruffles his hair. In the dim light, he looks unnaturally pale and frail. The moonlight falls unevenly on his shadow.

But Nick doesn't say anything. And Simon swallows clods after clods, waiting for something. Something that should make his heart stop. And certainly - it would immediately inflame. Every beat of his heart will contain the pain and agony that they have been suffering for years.

Therefore.

"Nick, come here. No questions."

And he didn't need to be told twice.

Nick obediently went to him. His footsteps were soft and clear, so unhurried. Time seemed to slow down, and the world around them seemed to take on a kind of solemn welcome.

He buried his face trustingly in his chest – and then Simon understood. It even seemed to him that all the truths of the world had opened all the hidden doors for him.

"Nick," he said, holding him close and carding his fingers into his hair. "There's no Muse. There is you. It always been you."

Nick - his presence alone was like the birth of a new star. It burns and is born again and again, again and again, bringing and taking with it joy and sorrow, beauty and pain. It fills all space and time. It represents harmony and balance.

But the noise of the sea waves still didn't want to stop.

And for the first time that evening, Simon no longer wanted to hold back – the touch of his own lips on Nick's forehead told him that he was still waiting. Waiting for heavenly inspiration. He's waiting patiently for the another birth of a new star.


End file.
